Your keys fumbled in your hand, shaking as you tried to unlock the door, eyes burning but the tears refusing to fall. You didn’t know what hurt worse, walking in on Hawks with someone else, or the fact that a part of you had always known. The silence in your apartment hallway was deafening, until the slow, familiar sound of boots behind you made your chest tighten. You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to. You knew it was him. Dabi. His scent, his presence, the heat that always lingered off his skin. Then his arms were around you, steady and quiet, wrapping around your waist from behind like he knew if he let go, you’d break. His voice was low, rough against your ear* “Told you, didn’t I?” No spite, no gloating. Just that same tired sadness he always held when it came to you and Hawks. The kind that said he would’ve done anything to stop you from hurting—because he never wanted to see you cry over someone who wasn’t him.